


Osculate

by arancar_no_6



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Consent is Sexy, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Deprivation, aka wash learns to ask for what he wants, and just a little bit of, and just a tiny bit silly because I can't help myself, just some sleepy boys having a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arancar_no_6/pseuds/arancar_no_6
Summary: “Poor baby,” he crooned, amused and very teasing. Just shy of breathless in the serene space between the two, he stretched taut to brush a lingering kiss over a closed eye.“I'm going to take care of you.”
Relationships: The Meta | Agent Maine/Agent Washington
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	Osculate

**Author's Note:**

> a.k.a. the babylancer gets dat DICKKKKKKKK
> 
> Also if there are any weird sentences or typos, it MIGHT be because my cat kept stepping on my keyboard. Watch out for those.

“Stop thinking,” Wash's slurred, throaty voice broke Maine from his very intense stare down with the darkened ceiling. He'd been tense enough that he almost startled when a petite hand slinked from under the layer of blankets laid over them to pat at his clenched jaw. He caught those slender fingers without missing a beat. Just touching him, chaste as the gesture was, loosened the tight ball of anxiety stuck in his throat.

“Did I wake you?” Wash shook his head, scooting and rolling in increments until he could partially drop himself over his partner’s chest. Maine grunted at the sharp impact of Wash’s stubborn chin over his sternum but otherwise didn’t react, letting the younger man get comfortable and he settled after a few more moments of sleepy wriggling.

Neither spoke for a long moment, relishing the few moments of relative peace and silence the night cycle afforded.

They were tired. So much more tired than what their usual schedules brought, thanks to the Counselor recently toying with the idea of personalized regimes rather than a common program for all the agents on duty. It was more trial and error than anything, some agents subject to tiresome hours in the classrooms and others being squeezed in to participate in drills after drills. Some were pulled to teach select Beta Freelancers and labeling potential alpha team recruits (namely North and Wash), others were strictly kept away from others and set on one-person programs (South, Carolina, C.T. and Maine were flagged in particular), but the constant was that they were all frequently called via F.L.I.S.S. for evaluations.

At any hour. In the middle of training, in the middle of their meal periods, in the middle of the night. York was once called while in the midst of a shower in the locker rooms and was treated to a shock of icy water, switched remotely, when he took five minutes too long to report for the Counselor’s liking.

It was very indiscriminate and they were all suffering for it.

Although the high-pitched screeching and wild crashing of limbs on tile was the best thing Maine’s heard in weeks.

Red-rimmed, grey eyes blearily focused at him, looking very unhappy. “We have to be up in four hours.”

“Ugh.” Maine was exhausted enough that the complaint came easily, breaking through his usual filters at the reminder. Wash’s head dropped again, cheek rubbing against the heated skin separated only by smooth cotton.

“I have the testing batch of recruits coming in early,” he continued, voice light and slowly awakening, “I’m supposed to monitor their ability to ‘improvise with limited resources while under duress’.” Another beat of silence. “Bomb disposal.”

Maine made a noise perfectly between disgust and amusement. Project Freelancer usually tried not to actually risk their agents before they officially signed them on, meaning that the faux C4 and specially designed explosive units were going to be packed with hardening solution. His partner would be doing little less than standing around in the blast zone trying to teach the inexperienced set, solvent ready for use. It was a painfully annoying assignment, although the thought of Wash spending hours tiredly spraying men and women down from walls and floors alike was incredible.

“What about you?”

“Lecture.” Washington made a soft noise in sympathy. He knew better than anyone how much Maine loathed being idle.

“Oh god.” Wash buried a long-suffering groan against Maine, face down and muffled. Maine inhaled deeply, eyes slipping shut in and breaths coming in and out in a long and measured rhythm; another attempt to will his thoughts silent.

He knew it wouldn’t quite work, but he was nevertheless disappointed.

“Sorry.” He sunk his fingers into soft blond hair, idly tugging at a lock between thumb and forefinger. The stubborn cowlick bounced back into place despite his attempts to smooth it down, the wispy ends catching the tiniest fragments of the low, blue lights lining the bunk.

The soothing gesture coaxed a yawn and a full body stretch from the tiny freelancer. Wash’s palm settled lightly over his sternum, a comforting weight over his heart.

“D’you need anything?” Wash blinked in the darkness of the room, nose tilting to poke into the soft underside of his partner’s jaw. He smelled like warmth and the sleep musk that could only come from spending hours idle under the covers. A shiver wracked through him at the thought.

Maine briefly jostled him with a shake of his head and a rumbling grunt, the kind Wash loved to hear and felt just like a purr when he pressed in tight against his cheek. It was simple for both men to tighten their hold on one another, shifting in a quiet whisper of sheets to fully line their bodies together from chest to hip. Wash couldn’t help the muffled giggle from bursting from his pursed lips, delighted as always at being manhandled.

“Poor baby,” he crooned, amused and very teasing. Just shy of breathless in the serene space between the two, he stretched taut to brush a lingering kiss over a closed eye.

Wash followed the bold contour of his cheek with gentle pecks, lips trailing with the intention to end at the corner of his partner’s frown.

The gesture was meant to soothe and placate, an attempt to prevent Maine’s terrible mood from developing the following morning as a result of fitful rest. Less for his own sake and rather more for the sanity and well being of the others that would have to be on call with the man. As much as he loves Maine with every fiber of his being, Washington is well aware there were a dozen more who were terrified shitless of him. It never failed to rile him up: the incredulous side looks from new initiates and senior agents alike every time his partner burst through concrete like it was paper. The secret knowledge of all the ways Maine can and will test his ridiculous strength in private.

They kissed chastely once, twice, and another time again, the cozy darkness of their quarters encouraging. Maine could feel the rough edges of his tired mind begin to settle and quiet, Wash’s distracting weight against him and his lips on his own like a cool balm on tender skin.

“Poor baby.” Voice like a desperate whine, the blond’s back curved as a heavy hand slowly palmed down the long line of his spine, reaching down to tease at the edge of his sleep shirt. Rough fingers snuck to circle and catch at the supple skin found underneath, distracting and dizzying.

They unhesitatingly opened their mouths to one another, tongues briefly gliding together hot and curious.

Wash pulled back first, only just barely, heated and decisive at once. “I'm going to take care of you.” It wasn’t a question, the whispered declaration sealed with a swipe of a kitten-soft tongue. Any protest Maine could produce was silenced with a surprisingly sharp bite to his lower lip. He jolted, stunned by his partner's boldness and just a tad turned on.

“Shhhh...” The thick layer of blankets and sheets was folded back and Wash slowly slid down his partner's bulky body, hands following in a slow and tantalizing drag. Fingers delicately hooked onto both the pair of sweats and undergarments riding low on his hips, pulling down in one fluid motion. Maine inhaled sharply at the chill in the air, morphing into a strangled hiss at the first touch of his partner's warm mouth.

Wash let his body go lax and heavy, somewhat pinning the man under his weight as much as he could. Fingers loosely circled around the slowly hardening dick, careful to avoid too much stimulation as he briefly sucked at the dampening head, a mimicry of the kisses they had shared only moments earlier. He let it slowly fall from between swelling lips, tongue darting out to draw a tortuously slow line from top to bottom and back again, eye contact never breaking. Washington's eyes looked so much darker in their dim surroundings, pupils blown wide around a thin ring of stormy gray as he directed the thickening girth back to puckered lips.

The pace was maddening.

“Fuck-” Maine let in a tortured breath, unable to look away.

Wash appeared very pleased at his reaction, licking at the corners of his mouth and looking very much like the cat that got the cream. “Should I keep going?” He toyed with the little drops of pre that had just begun to flow from the tip, bending back down over his groin to smear it over his bottom lip with terrifying patience. A fist clenched onto the crown of his head, hair held back in a vice just shy of painful.

Maine looked a second away from throttling him, all that wild and intense destructive energy he is renowned for concentrated in a single wide-eyed look.

Utterly unfazed by the scathing glare being leveled at him, Wash bestowed him with a far too beatific smile, letting just a sliver of teeth peek out and tease at the rough ridge at the base of the leaking head. Maine couldn't bring himself to speak any further, although he was dimly aware that his breathing was getting increasingly labored, the only break in the silence until his partner's tight mouth began to slowly roll back down the length of his swollen dick.

Wash didn't dare go for deepthroating right from the get-go, knowing full well that any discomfort or rushing on his part would push Maine into cutting things short for the night, secret, stubborn softy that he is. He didn't mind taking it slow, working the stiff prick down his throat, pulling out to grace that sensitive slit with a harder rub of his tongue, sucking at the veins trailing the underside, fingers rolling and squeezing heavy balls. He swallowed sporadically, quietly moaning, the slick sounds of his throat working surrounding them as Maine forced himself to loosen his hold, heavy hand simply resting atop that bobbing head. It was killing him, just lying there and taking it, and he was getting close far faster than he expected, belly growing warm and tense, sweat settling into a fine sheen into the hollows of his body as he watched the gentle curve of Wash's hips rock against the mattress, idly seeking his own friction.

He felt like a teenager all of a sudden, indulging in his first time with the boy of his dreams.

Wash suddenly let go, breathless and coughing his airways clear, jarring the hand that was weighing his head down. Maine made to sit up, any questions he had interrupted by the blond unceremoniously shoving him onto his back again.

He directed both of Maine's hand to his hair, encouraging a firmer grip and falling still. Both men stared at one another, panting.

His cheeks were rosy, lips red and glossy, expression irrationally shy considering what they were doing. Maine shook a hand loose, ignoring Wash's wordless protests, hooking fingers under his chin to make him look at him. He found himself unable to resist from swiping a thumb over that swollen pout, pressing in to meet the wet heat of his devious tongue. “What's wrong?” To his mild horror, his voice croaked very badly, thankfully going unnoticed by his partner as Washington averted his gaze.

Wash bit down on the digit softly, blushing and still refusing eye contact. Maine watched his throat work for for a few seconds as he gathered courage, soothing his nerves with gentle pets wherever he could reach.

He could see the moment he made his mind up, the flush coloring his face growing darker. “Face fuck me?”

Maine's eyes widened just a little bit, his thumb slipping out of Wash's mouth with a pop.

Oh.

Fuck.

He must have been silent for too long. Wash shrunk in on himself as no response followed, embarrassed, all that alluring energy that had carried him to this point fading fast under the weight of his request. “I- I mean, only if you want to...” he stuttered, beet-red, and turning away. Staring down at the sheets pulled loose under their bodies, the discreet pattern suddenly looked like the most fascinating thing in the world to him. He fidgeted, finger scratching and following the direction of the weave. Maine swallowed thickly, blood hot and pounding in his ears. “Okay,” he blurted, mouth dry at the thought and cringing just a little at how overexcited he sounded.

Wash looked ready to explode. “Okay?” His voice was a whimper, now fidgeting for a whole other reason. He perked considerably at the jerky nod from his partner, moving to loop an arm underneath Maine's slightly bent knee, effectively pinning his shoulder underneath his weight and surrendering control over to him.

His curled fingers settled over his still clothed knee, light and barely noticeable.

“I'll squeeze if its too much,” he offered, eyes soft.

“You better.” Maine mumbled, the offhand comment earning him a bright and happy laugh. He sunk his fingers back into those gorgeous blond locks. “Come here.”

His voice was the kind of dark and vibrating base that never failed to seep bone-deep, forcing a near violent shiver through every inch of Wash's body. He didn't hesitate to heed the order, inching closer and opening his mouth for him anew, whining at the quick glide of hot flesh down his throat.

He was still treated with great care, the pace slowing whenever he choked, gently prodding deeper and faster whenever he relaxed and breathed easy. Wash groaned, long and loud, the vibrations wrenching a particularly violent litany of curses from his partner. 

His jaw began to grow sore and tired but he still clenched tight, pushing back to meet Maine's increasingly sharper thrusts, determined to make him break despite his mounting arousal. He felt faint from his steadily decreasing oxygen, straining painfully and on the verge of orgasm at the mere act of being used the way he was. Wash scrambled to his knees, grunting as his head was still firmly kept in place, shoving desperate fingers down the front of his sleepwear. 

His knees weakened at his own touch, crying out unexpectedly and trying to working himself frantically in time to the dick piercing in and out of his mouth. His hand slipped easily through his own mess to provide a smooth friction, threatening to drive him crazy. Maine readjusted his hands on either side of Wash's head, hold growing painful and thrusts becoming sloppy, the slapping staccato of the two coming together again and again noisy and dirty.

They've slept together often enough that Wash knew when Maine was close. He forced an eye open, searching his face. The moment he caught sight of the subdued snarl and sliver of clenched teeth he pressed back onto the hot prick, swallowing all the way down to the root and sucking hard, whimpering at the explosion of bitter fluid on the back of his tongue.

Maine stiffened, his own orgasm unexpected and agonizingly long. It was almost too much and he found himself shivering and trembling in the aftermath, senses pleasantly muddled and out of it so much so that he didn't quite realize when Wash had finally come. For a lengthy moment, everything seemed out of reach: muffled, light, and far less visceral in a way things haven't been in weeks.

Wash made his way back up, his tired body collapsing unceremoniously into his rightful spot over his partner's lax body as they fought to catch their breaths. Maine dropped an appreciative kiss on his sweaty forehead.

“Feel better?” The smaller man looked very pleased, drowsy and messy in a way only a night like this in bed delivered. Maine made a series of nonsensical noises, largely incoherent, eyes drifting shut and still too overwhelmed for any kind of speech. Wash beamed at him, curling close and relishing in the newly relaxed sensation of Maine's once tense form. 

Maine ran so hot and it was hard for Wash to not immediately succumb to the comforting heat radiating at his side. He traced comforting lines over his damp skin, cooing softly and watching as drooping lids slowly lost their fight to stay alert.

He stroked the sharp curve of his jaw, utterly enamored, bestowing his own appreciative kiss to the relaxed apple of his cheek. Wash dropped his head, nuzzling against his throat. That distinctive musk filled his senses once more.

“Sweet dreams.” he murmured, finally letting himself drift back into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> They fucked so good that they overslept and missed their appointments. They got benched for two weeks because of it. Maine was still in the best mood any agent has ever seen him in and Wash becomes the target of bullying because they want him to fess up on how he managed it.
> 
> He refuses to divulge how he accomplished that for obvious reasons lol.


End file.
